


Close Your Eyes

by AKSST



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ADHD Harry Potter, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Severus Snape, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Redemption, Smart Harry Potter, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKSST/pseuds/AKSST
Summary: When Harry goes to face his death at Voldemort's hands, he doesn't go to King's Cross, he goes somewhere else. Somewhere were the ones he loves can still be saved, if he can do this, and move fast enough.He just has to move fast enough.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 35
Kudos: 200
Collections: Not to be misplaced





	1. Prologue

Harry watched the green light fly at him, closing his eyes at the last second, bracing for the impact that never came. When he opened them again he was in a place that didn’t seem to have an up for a down, it was dark, but light enough for there to be a perceivable fog, but not much else. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen, along with poor Hagrid in chains.    
  
Maybe this was just what death was, a warm place. Harry hung his head, finally in death he could actually think beyond the goal his entire life had been leading to. He could finally see, everything in his life, from before he was even born, had all been determined by a bearded old man, and the words of a drunk divination professor. He at least had hoped he would get to be with his loved ones in death, and yet here he was, all alone.    
  
It started with a sniffle that he stifled on instinct, but then decided to let go. After all he had no one here to be strong for. He thought back to everything he could ever remember, the Dursleys who hated him, how happy he was to get to know Hagrid, Mrs. Weasley helping him get on the train. All coming to the knowledge he had held in his hands, from the night he was born to his final breathing moments, his entire life had been staged. By Dumbledore, who kept Sirius in Azkaban, knowing Peter was the Secret-Keeper, to force him to stay at the Dursleys so he’d be desperate for any scrap of affection. Willing to do anything to keep it. Was he even born on purpose, was the prophecy even real? Everyone’s lives were all controlled by Dumbledore, good god, Neville. Neville would kill Voldemort, he  _ was  _ the one in the prophecy.    
  
Harry started to laugh, everything did come full circle, then harsh sobs wracked his body as he realized the true depth of the fact that every single event in his life had been puppeted by a man he had trusted and loved. And everyone else’s too, everyone he loved, and even hated. He had seen Severus’s memories, had the man cared at all about him? Or any of them? Everything. Severus had just enough love to turn spy for Dumbledore and had to spend the rest of his life drowning in the tar pit his life became. No wonder he was a hateful bastard, he played the part he needed to play. His entire life, he maintained that persona, kept his Deatheater connections, never could move on from any of the hateful bullshit that went on in his life. At least he hadn’t had to live as long as Snape. God, was he in a place like this too? Was everyone?    
  
This wasn’t fair.    
  
This wasn’t fair!    
  
They didn’t deserve this, none of them did. Harry had spent most of his life hating that poor man who sure was a right bastard when he wanted to be. But, fuck, how much could a man take before the bitter sludge of his life consumed him. He fell to his knees, placing his hands where the ground would be if there was one in the horrible nothingness that surrounded him. His whole life, nothing but a card in a deck in a pathetic rehash of an age old battle between Light and Dark. How many more years before it was done all over again? This wasn’t fair! Harry curled into himself as tight as he could and kept crying hard. For a brief moment he remembered how  much he wanted a stuffed dragon when he was little crying just like this in his cupboard.    
  
As his eyes closed he was relieved that it seemed like he could still sleep even if he still had to apparently spend eternity in an endless void. 


	2. A Second Chance?

Harry woke up, not to the void but to the lumpy, moldy cot he had spent half his life on. He felt like he should be confused, but honestly if he was in hell why not wake up back in his cupboard. As he sat up and put his glasses on he looked at his hands, unmarked with his proclamation of not telling lies. He must’ve been around nine or ten, he still had that burn scar on his forearm from when the oven closed on him while pulling dinner out. 

He got up and peeked through the slats in the cupboard door, it looked like it was just after dawn. If he was in hell then he would be waking up to Petunia’s wretched howling. Maybe now that he was dead his nightmares were more vivid? No, his nightmares were always very to the point, and rather repetitive, he wouldn’t be waking up before the subjects of his nightmares railed at him.    
  
He needed the date, he tried to open the cupboard door, forgetting that it was always locked from the outside.  _ Well...I’m dead anyways.  _ Harry thought before he gave the door a hard shove, ripping the poorly installed lock from the cheap plaster wall.  _ What are they gonna do? Kill me?  _ Maybe the newspaper would give him some clues, if not then a calendar would tell him the month and the year. Harry could work with that, soon as he found out how old he was right now and what day it was he’d ask the goblins for help, they usually knew something or were able to be helpful at least, damned if he was going to go to Dumbledore.    
  
Harry walked out the door, fetching the newspaper,  **March 17th, 1990.** A little over a year before his first year, before everything. He stood there, his bare feet on the cold concrete staring at the date, is it was real he could fix everything, time travel wasn’t even a stranger to him. If it wasn’t real, just his brain making up something for him before it died then what did he have to lose? Doing something could fix everything, and doing nothing would cost everything. When his mind put it that way...how could he refuse.    
  
  
\--------   
  
  
That was how Harry found himself on the train to London, headed to Gringotts, he would need the money from his vault if he was going to fix everything. He didn’t have his key but he had his blood and his scar, he didn’t have his wand and wouldn’t be able to get one for another year at least which sucked, but maybe he’d be able to learn wandless magic, he’d have to put forth a lot more effort into learning, he wouldn’t have Hermione around this time. She deserved a world where her parents, who loved her, knew who she was, where everyone lived and loved.    
  
No, he’d have no one this time, and that was fine, he already had all the cards he needed to do what had to be done. And they would be safe, they’d be alright, they would get to live good, complete lives, they’d be safe, away from him. Harry took a few deep breaths and worked over his plans for what he could do with the time he had before Hogwarts, and what would have to wait until he was already there. He knew where several horcruxes he could get at before school, he’d have to wait until then anyways to destroy them, he didn’t have a wand and people didn’t exactly leave basilisk fangs laying about for him to use, and without Tom maybe he could just bring one of Hagrid’s stupid roosters in and kill it while it was dormant before Malfoy even brought the diary in.    
  
He needed to get the ring, the necklace, the cup, Nagini, before school, then when his second year came he could get the diary and the diadem. When he freed Dobby he could simply make sure the elf couldn’t save him from Lucius, and then finally, the last horcrux is gone. Then he could be at rest. Maybe that’s what this was, just him doing what he needed to do before he could be at peace. Maybe. Hopefully. He didn’t fancy going back to the void, waking up ten years old again even less so. But there weren’t many options so far. At least now he knew better than to go back to that horrid Inferi ridden cave this time around. Harry nodded to himself, his plans were rough but doable, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done them before. Literally, a few hours ago, he did them. He was ahead of the game, Voldemort was still a cloudy wraith in fucking Albania, he didn’t stand a chance. 

Harry stepped into London, on the corner across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, with a laugh he realized he was embracing his inner Slytherin finally. Maybe this time he’d let the hat put him there without a fight just for the sake of it. As Harry approached the door he made sure his bangs covered his scar before he entered, trying to look as innocent as possible when he walked up to Tom.    
  
“Excuse me, sir? Can you use your wand to let me into Diagon Alley? My mum asked me to go and get her some potions supplies and said you could let me in.” He was almost surprised by how easily the lies rolled off his tongue, then again. Compared to using the Imperius Curse to break into Gringotts, robbing one of their highest profile clients' vaults, and stealing one of their personal dragons...this really was nothing. Sure enough Tom smiled at him, telling him what a sweet boy he was, doing favors for his mum, making sure he knew the way to the apothecary before sending Harry on his way.    
  
Thankfully it was still rather early, another downside of being nine again was just how short he was. If it were later in the day he’d probably be run over just by the regular foot traffic, he was never especially tall but for god's sake he was tiny. Harry made a beeline for Gringotts and was relieved to see Griphook on duty, did he ever sleep? He almost forgot that they hadn’t met yet.   
  
“Hello, I need to speak with someone about my vault and how to access it.”    
  
“If you have your key then you may access your vault, if you have lost your key then you may request a blood verification to prove your identity and have it replaced for a fee of three galleons.” He said without looking up.    
  
“My name is Harry Potter, I’d like to do the blood verification and get a new key please.” Griphook nodded and gave the order for him to follow as he walked towards one of the many halls. Harry obeyed and sat where he was pointed, bled on the paper and waited for the test to verify his identity. It occurred to him, he’d only ever visited his trust vault, not the family vault, where personal items, books, artefacts, and portraits were kept. He added it to the ever growing list of shit he had to get done. Maybe he’d stop by for a quick visit, talk to some family portraits, not like the ring was going anywhere. And he’d never had the chance previously.    
  
There was a lot he never had the chance for, him and a lot of other people. And now he had an expiration date again. Which reminded him he had to make sure Sirius got out, and fast, he was going to have to get to the Burrow, and get Wormtail. Percy probably had him right now. As the images of Wormtail’s silver hand choking him for the betrayal of the dark lord for so much as hesitating...the man had hesitated, but he would have choked Harry. His fear of Voldemort would far outweigh any remorse he may or may not have felt over betraying his friends. The man still needed to be dealt with... And Sirius deserved to be free.    
  
Harry came back to himself as Griphook handed him his new key, and a roll of parchment detailing his vault contents and assets. God, he had assets. What even were they? His cloak? The cindery remains of Potter Cottage? Did that even belong to his family anymore now that it was a monument? Who had even handled it all before now, nevermind, probably Dumbledore. He was the one who had his old key.    
  
He followed Griphook down to his vault, where he filled a large bag, galleons, sickles, knuts. And was soon on his way. He had more than enough for his suddenly shortened schooling, he only had so long left he wasn’t going to spend it with the Dursleys. He was going to have to be both Ron and Hermione, her brain, his strategy. He could do this. Until he turned eleven all the magic he could do would still register as underage magic, and since he was pants at wandless magic he would have to find a wand somewhere.    
  
First stop, new clothes, Dudley’s rags needed to be gone, next stop, Carkitt Market back in London. He could mention knowing about the Elder Wand to Gregorovitch and he would be able to get a wand without a Trace on it. His mind made up he wandered into a generic robes shop, and bought a few simple sets of clothing, and a cloak, with a simple hood, charmed with expanded fleatherlight pockets. Harry made his purchases and changed his clothes, leaving his old ones in a trash heap before heading to Carkitt, which, according to a map was three alleys over and one up from Diagon.    
  
Wands by Gregorovitch would be closing soon so Harry had to move fast. He hadn’t been to that area before so he couldn’t Apparate there, thankfully Harry Hunting had done wonders for his running skills. He really didn’t fancy have to put his plans on hold until tomorrow. He entered the shop just in time, only a few minutes to closing and no one else in the shop.    
  
“I need a wand, sir.” Harry said, recognizing the man from his visions, alive and well.    
  
“I can see already you are not of age to have your wand yet, little sir.” The man said, trying to be playfully stern as one does with kids, which brought back so many aggrivating memories. “I’m afraid it is the law you must wait until you’re eleven to get yours, now plea-”    
  
“You had the Elder Wand once, a long time ago, yes?” Harry started in, wanting to make this quick, he had several more stops to make today before the end of it. “You had it, and it obeyed you, so well in fact that you dedicated your entire life trying to replicate such a loyal wand from other woods and cores. But it never succeeded, not quite right anyways. The Curse of the Elder wand is such that for it to work properly the previous owner must be killed by the new one. It’s why it didn’t work as well for Grindelwald after he broke into your house and stole it from you.”    
  
Maybe he should have been a bit kinder, but really, he didn’t have the time for this. “Murder, over an ancient, invaluable magical artifact, no matter how long ago will see you in Azkaban. I need a wand, with no ministry Trace on it, and then, we can both go our separate ways and forget this entire interaction.”    
  
\-----   
  
Harry walked from the wand shop, new wand, in a dragonhide holster, Red Oak, and Basilisk Horn. The next step required was finding something to put the damn Horcruxes in, he was no going to wander around wearing them again. Not this time, if he had to he’d carry this around in a purse like Hermione had and then cast Fiendfyre on the whole damn thing. He simply couldn’t do it. Not when he was alone like this.    
  
With a deep breath Harry went to the first place he could think of, that would sell something like that, no someone shady beyond all fuck, no questions asked and no answers given to anyone who went snooping around after him. He turned around and walked all the way back to Diagon Alley, his feet growing quickly sore from the back and forth, and took a turn into the dark, manky and damp Knockturn Alley.    
  
Only vaguely remembering from when he was twelve where it was, the map being unhelpful thanks to all the wards from all the shops, people, and trinkets Harry was forced to simply wander for a bit until he found the right place. As he did he realized that most of the intimidation that was given the alley really had to be attributed to the thick layer of filth that covered it. It seemed the street was growing mold and the walls of the shops leaked grey pus.    
  
As he made up his mind to Apparate out of there when he found what he was looking for, instead of walking back through all the muck he finally darkened the doorstep of Borgin and Burkes. Carefully avoiding the hand that grabbed him last time, and resisting the urge to smash the cabinet in the corner he walked up to the counter, trying to appear as confident as he had seen Lucious that day.    
  
“I need a box. A medium sized one, that can’t be opened by anyone except me, that can hold dark items.” Harry said, willing his voice not to crack. The shopkeep sneered down at him before pointing to an ornate box with his wand and summoning it over to the counter. It was black and with a pale wooden dragon wrapped around it, seemingly guarding it, the dragon turned to look at Harry as well, narrowing its eyes at him in suspicion.    
  
“Walnut box, made from wand grade wood, and a Yew dragon, controlled by the same blood magic Gringotts uses to keep their vaults secure.” He said in a smug tone down to Harry, thinking he couldn’t afford it. Harry let him prattle on for a bit, talking up the box. Harry was already sold, the box was just big enough to hold everything, except Helga’s Cup, which was safe at Gringotts for now. Harry ignored the high price, and paid in full, taking the box, and letting the dragon bite his hand, using his blood to activate its protection. He slipped it into one of the pockets in his cloak, and turned on his heel to a place he knew he could stay for the time being.    
  
\-------   
  
Grimmauld Place was, thankfully, not quite as disgusting as Knockturn Alley had been, and since Walburga had never gotten around to officially disinheriting Sirius from the Black Estate, it was still his, and therefore Harry had access. Once he helped Kreacher get rid of the damned locket he would be in his good graces enough to stay there. Hopefully. His parents had brought him here when he was a newborn for Order meetings, so he should still be keyed into the wards. And if not he’d either be violently ejected or just, incinerated, maybe. Either way, he’d been homeless in his old life and if he was incinerated then it wouldn’t be his problem anymore.    
  
Harry walked in slowly, at least this time a giant, murderous filth monster wouldn’t attack him.    
  
“INTRUDERS!!! HALF-BLOOD FILTH!!!! MUDBLOOD SPAWN IN MY HOME!!!”   
  


_ Oh, right, her. _ Harry hoped the curtains that had covered her up before were still around, he still had no idea what enchantments kept them closed. Harry was running in to look for something, anything to silence the portrait.    
  
“Kreacher! I can destroy Regulus’s locket if you shut her up!”    
  
Silence, finally, blessed silence.    
  
“How is you knowing about Master Regulus’s locket?”    
  
“I know a lot of things, Kreacher, including what Regulus wanted with the locket, and how to destroy it. I’ll help you obey his last order, if you help me in return.”    
  
“Kreacher is sworn to House Black...but for the last order of the last true heir to be honored Kreacher would do anything.”    
  
“Sirius named me in his will to inherit, with him in Azkaban, the Black estates and assets, including you fall to me.” Harry said, rifling through his pockets for the parchment from Gringotts.    
  
“Master Sirius was a traitor to his home, broke his poor mother's heart he did.”    
  
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he felt he should probably have this argument again, but honestly, he was tired of it. So with a request for Kreacher to simply not speak ill of Sirius in front of him, and to bring Harry the locket, Kreacher was soon happy to obey him. Harry put the hideous thing in the box for protection and told Kreacher to get the place liveable again, as he would be staying there for the foreseeable future, and to keep everyone out until and unless he let them in personally. And once that was done to find the shack where a man named Marvolo Gaunt had lived with his two children.   
  
This was more than doable, this time around he knew where all the damn things were, except Nagini. All he had to focus on was finding something destructive enough to destroy a Horcrux without raising any eyes. A ten year old looking to destroy a Horcrux wasn’t exactly believable.    
  
And since no one had checked up on him when he was at the Dursleys, no one knew he had even left.    
  
Probably. 


	3. A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I accidentally posted this to a different story first so my bad haha, hope this clears up some confusion

_The Forbidden Forest?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Harry was walking around in the Forest again, like when he was heading to his death. He looked around but the trees all looked the same in every direction, none of the familiar paths were there anymore. Left, right, ahead didn’t matter, they were all the same. Harry ran ahead of a few minutes, maybe when he was ahead things would change, but nothing did. He ran left and right, and everything was the same. Maybe he just took a wrong turn back there, after all he was walking to his death, he had the right to have gotten a bit confused._ _  
_ _  
_ _When he turned around, things finally became different. The Forest was only among the very edge of his vision, there was Hogwarts, in all her glory, like the Battle had never touched her, shining in the daylight. But wasn’t it night? Harry looked back ahead of him again, only to find something else entirely. What had once been the endless Forest was now bisected by a river, on the other side, was Firenze, covered in ash and blood. The river flowed right beside him, seeming to lead from the image of the pristine Hogwarts to the battle-stained centaur, who’s very presence wiped out the rest of the vision in front of him. Harry closed his eyes as his soothing voice surrounded him._ _  
_ _  
_ _“Wizards say that time is a bottomless river, ever flowing in one direction. You can throw as many stones into it as you please, to try and change its course, and while you may cause a ripple, the river will always correct itself.”_ _  
_ _  
_Harry opened his eyes, back at Grimmauld Place, the smell of coffee and toast coming from the door. He slowly sat up and looked around, squinting, good lord he had a headache. At least his scar wasn’t hurting yet, thanks to the box. What the fuck was that dream? Was it Firenze trying to contact him from what was/will be/hopefully won’t be the future? Was it just his brain freaking out again? Not all dreams were visions. Maybe if Trelawney hadn’t been such a drunken disaster of a teacher he’d know this shit, he wasn’t going to study divination now to learn it. Not a chance in hell.  
  
With an aggressive rub over his eyes Harry hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He decided on a quick whores bath for now, since Kreacher hadn’t installed a shower yet, nor had he ever heard of one. Since wizards had long ago decided to live like the Amish in regards to muggle technology. He was bringing ink pens to school, he didn’t care how many goddamned detentions he got for them, no way in hell he was suffering through a fucking quill and inkpot because Hogwarts had an aesthetic.  
  
He got himself clean in the essential areas and then joined Kreacher for breakfast. Who reported that he had found Marvolo Gaunt’s shack, covered in dark magic, that would kill any wizard or muggle who set foot in it. That was without the rotting wood and general dilapidated nature of the place making it dangerous to enter. But much like the cave, House Elf magic would have great ease getting him and Harry in to retrieve the ring and get out. Really, as many Purebloods who had House Elves working for him he really should have plugged that leak.  
  
\-----------  
  
Gaunt Shack was...shockingly close. He didn’t even need Kreacher to apparate him, truly, he could have taken the tube. Even walked if he was so inclined. With Kreacher’s help he was able to walk in, but his brand of magic wouldn’t help the curses placed on the wretched unholy pit Voldemort had dropped it into. Evil magic wafted off it in a thick miasma that made Harry sick to be near. He was scared to even go too near it, Kreacher’s warnings to be careful or not. Had he really thought this through? What if Voldemort knew Harry was here? Placed monitoring charms on it?  
  
He was fucking ten again, how in god’s name was he meant to break the kind of magic to get the damn thing? The only way he did this last time was because he was meant to fucking die at the end! Why couldn’t Voldemort had just killed him as a baby, this wouldn’t have been an issue for him if he had just picked him up and choked him or something. But _no_ he just had to use his curse, couldn’t do something as mundane as muggle murder. Hell, if he’d even picked up a rock small enough for him to choke on and tossed it over into the back garden that would’ve worked.  
  
Harry stopped.  
  
Muggle ways?  
  
No. No, it wouldn’t be that easy.  
  
He remembered Snape using a logic puzzle in his first year trials for the Philosopher's stone.  
  
 _“Most wizards haven't got an ounce of logic.”_ _  
_ _  
_Harry turned his head to a particularly long stick...then back to the pit. He grabbed it and poked it into the hole, no trouble, he poked around a bit, feeling around for something that felt right, _there!_ A few more moments Harry had the ring hooked on the end of his stick, he carefully pulled it out, only dropping it twice, and there it was. Harry didn’t want to touch it, so he simply used the stick to maneuver it into the box with the necklace, Harry figured if a Horcrux could combine with another the Diary would have done so when he was writing in it. Voldemort didn’t waste chances, especially when it could have snubbed someone, and how better than taking over his twelve year old body and existing under his nose?  
  
Also, he’d worn the necklace, hundreds of times, for hours at a time, and he’d never gotten sucked into it until he had tried to destroy it.   
  
With the box closed and safely in his cloak pocket, the job was done. Harry took the cloak off and gave it to Kreacher, told him to take it home and put it in a safe place. He decided to take the scenic route home, thanks to the memories Dumbledore gave him, he also knew that the orphanage Tom RIddle grew up in wasn’t too far from here. Maybe it was time for a walk down memory lane. Could it still be called memory lane if it wasn’t his memory? He remembered it, he watched it, so wasn’t it his too? Either way, it didn’t really matter, Harry supposed.  
  
A thirty minute walk later and there he stood, in front of what used to be an orphanage, but was now just a building, with a sign in front of it, promising a new bakery. Harry walked into the building, not worried about whether it was structurally sound or not. Harry looked around the dusty empty room, Voldemort had lived, thirty minutes away from his family. The whole time he was growing up all alone, thinking he was a freak, and his family was a thirty minute walk away. That had to have hurt, when he found out, finally.  
  
Harry made his way upstairs, to where Tom’s room used to be. Now it was pretty much just an empty room, with the rusted metal frame of what used to be a cot. He remembered how Dumbledore set his wardrobe on fire instead of just telling Tom not to steal shit.  
  
This wasn’t his fault either. Tom was just a scared, angry kid, he had a violent streak, that could have been managed and instead it got fed. Then from there he became a monster. Harry left the building in rather a hurry, eager to put the whole place behind him. Part of him wondered if it wasn’t too late, what if he just talked to Tom now, would he be able to convince him to be…  
  
Be what? Less of a genocidal, crazy power-hungry sociopath?  
  
There wasn’t anything he could do now anyways, he had to get rid of the Horcruxes, and then die himself. The plan was in motion, he didn’t have time to rethink it, and he knew what would happen if he did nothing. The sight of Hermione crying, holding her arm as that disgusting slur was carved into her forever. Always there to remind her of what he was in the eyes of many to the word she belonged in. No, the deed was done, and there was no going back now.  
  
Harry walked towards home with his hands in his pockets forlornly. Things could have been so different, and it wasn’t fair. How different could things have been if Dumbledore had been kinder to Tom, or at least not made him think he had set the only things in the world that were his on fire… The thoughts only made him sadder, he remembered the broken crayons and few destroyed toys he had squirreled away in his cupboard, if Dumbledore had set them on fire and called him a thief Harry would never have trusted the man at all in the first place. Then where would he be?  
  
Probably not in the past to say the least.  
  
Finding himself simply wandering he looked up to get his bearings and found a toy shop and it suddenly struck him that he had never set foot in one. Sure he had been to joke shops where they had toys and purchased things for himself and others, but he’d never been in a toy shop before. Harry looked around and, feeling just the littlest bit shy he walked in and began to look around. It was just a muggle toy shop, it had puzzles, water pistols, stuffed animals, coloring and paint sets. Looking around at the variety of toys he felt a bit sorry for his lost childhood, he would have loved these things when he was, well, his age now he guessed. When something soft touched his hand Harry looked and found a soft blue bear, with a sparkling purple bow around its neck and felt a sudden tug of yearning. He looked away, he was really too old for such things...wasn’t he? It wouldn’t look odd at all if he purchased the bear and took it home with him at the age his body was.  
  
After another moment or two Harry made a quick choice and snatched up the teddy and brought it up to purchase. Feeling a little embarrassed as the shop lady cooed at him and what a big boy he was, assuming he was sent by his parents to buy his first toy with his own pocket change. He quickly left, with the bear in tow, sneaking into an alleyway and apparating quickly home, his bear held tightly in his arms.   
  


Maybe he couldn’t make a ripple strong enough to change the river's course.  
  
But he could dig a new path for it.


	4. A Warning

_ Meanwhile in Scotland... _ _  
_ _  
_   
Dumbledore looked down in his hand at the wand that had been faithful to him for so long. Something had happened, the wand was defiant to him, with no clear reason why. He may not have the stone, but he had the cloak and he had won the wand in the tradition for it to cleave to him as it’s master. He sat at his desk, staring at it as though it may just leap up and begin telling him exactly why it no longer served him. Though Dumbledore deep down knew what had happened. It would have to be someone who had at some point been in possession of the cloak, who had also been the owner of the wand, who was now alive enough to possess the stone. How they had managed to find it was beyond Dumbledore, and yet there was no other explanation.    
  
The Master of Death walked among them. And the wand recognized its true owner was not the one who currently wielded it.   
  
Dumbledore only had so long to figure out who it was and ensure they did not meddle with his plans. He supposed now would be the best time for it to happen, until Harry Potter turned eleven he didn’t have any bigger fish to fry. This was simply a matter of taking care of it with the time he had. By any means necessary. Until then he could not risk the wand acting up on him at an inopportune time, and so locked it away within his office. His old one would do for now until he destroyed the Elder Wand’s current master.    
  


  
  


\-----------------------

  
  
  


Harry woke that morning to the belly of his stuffie, and the smell of warm tea that Kreacher always had ready for him to enjoy in bed before he faced the day. This was far better than the Dursleys. It still hurt a bit that he had been “missing” for over six months now and no one had come to search for him. He only had seven more months to go before he went to Hogwarts and he was still no closer than when he started to finding Nagini, or a way to get at the Horcrux inside of himself, since apparently he couldn’t die.    
  
He brought the tea up closer to himself and let the warm steam of Earl Grey calm him a bit. Then he gave a little bit of a laugh, here he was having a lie in while sniffing tea to calm himself, like the little prince Severus had called him all those years ago. Or...all the years from now? Fuck time travel. Harry finished his tea and then went to take a good hot shower, finally it was installed. The hot water felt breathtaking as it massaged knots out of his back, he would never take showers for granted again after living in the forest for so damn long.    
  
Hermione’s purse had been an absolute marvel, but he would be happy to never see it again if it meant he didn’t have to live out of it. Harry shuddered at the thought of what Newt Scamader had had to live with living with all his animals in his trunk in the twenties. Harry had always hated how disgusting the owlery was at the best of times, he could only imagine how much time must have been spent just vanishing animal poop. He wished again for Hermione to be there with him again, she would know how to find Nagini after she was done bemoaning that none of Newt Scamander’s personal journals were published. And then Ron would make up some brilliant strategy for finding and destroying her before chasing the wraith.    
  
Who would have thought that his time would largely be spent hunting down a sixty-five year old fart and his pet snake?    
  
Harry made it down to breakfast, his favorite scrambled eggs with kippers spread onto a toast sandwich. Coffee would have been a wonderful addition but he sadly had come to the conclusion that his younger body couldn’t handle the caffeine. As he ate his thoughts returned on how to find Nagini or even  _ if _ she needed to be found. Voldemort might not have even met Nagini yet, he would be in Albania now, and the snake Nagini happened to be was native to Indonesia. Unless she was somebody’s pet then it was unlikely she was with him right now, or he would have been possessing her long before fourth and fifth year. Harry was already going to have to search the forests of Albania inch by inch, no way in hell was he going to be able to search every single island for any snake that may or may not be Nagini. What was he going to do? Find every single snake and ask them if they happened to be evil twats or had any plans in the future to become one?    
  
He put his head in his hands and tried not to cry, he already had to wait another year to get the bloody diary, how long was it safe to wait for Nagini? What if Voldemort already possessed Quirrell? The man had to have been a stuttering chump for a while not to have alerted anyone to his behavior. And if he was leaving well enough alone with Ron and Hermione then how was he going to get close enough to Pettigrew to get him back to the Ministry and prove Sirius was innocent? He also had to make sure Severus didn’t waste his life taking care of him at every turn, maybe he wouldn’t be such a bitter prat this time around. Or he wouldn’t have to play that part for long, maybe they could even be friends since he wouldn’t have to cast himself as a villain.    
  
Harry was still consumed by his worries and his mournful lack of being able to enjoy any coffee without serious repercussions when Kreacher appeared in front of him, looking like Dobby before breaking down into tears. Thankfully he seemed to have a little more dignity than that as he told Harry he must follow Master Sirius’s orders.    
  
Which meant Harry had to leave for the night.    
  
He asked Kreacher what had happened, what had he been ordered, and it was then the house elf burst into tears. Loudly wailing and bemoaning that he was bound to secrecy and couldn’t tell. But that it was not going to be safe for Harry here tonight, and he was ordered to make sure that Grimmauld Place would be safe for tonight. After Harry managed to calm the poor elf down he simply told the elf to make sure no one found any evidence he had been staying here, unless Harry let it happen to be known he was. He would leave for the night, but would return tomorrow morning.    
  
_ At the ass crack of dawn. _ Harry thought as he packed a bag and let Kreacher hide the rest of his belongings. Who would Sirius let take over Grimmauld Place, giving them the right to boot everyone else out, even to the point of ordering Kreacher to make sure they left?  _ Probably anyone who asked, if they promised to trash the place.  _ Harry thought. Then he thought of what Kreacher had said. That it wouldn’t be safe for Harry tonight. So someone dangerous was coming, any member of the Black family could qualify for that, Bellatrix was in prison, and Narcissa wouldn’t set foot in here, and would be too busy with Draco anyways. Andromeda wasn’t dangerous as far as he knew and the rest of them were dead or in prison and Sirius would do them no favors.    
  


Harry briefly thought of Remus, it was the night of the full moon after all but Remus had disappeared during the war because people thought he would side with the other werewolves. There wouldn’t be enough time between then and Sirius getting arrested for them to reconcile enough for Sirius to have had Kreacher set the place up for Remus to stay here for the full moon, and if he had why hadn’t Harry seen him the last months? Additionally Remus had no clue that Sirius was innocent at the moment and would want nothing to do with the man. Hadn’t even visited him in all his time in Azkaban.    
  
Someone from the Order, probably, that made it unsafe for Harry to be there, that Kreacher wasn’t allowed to talk about. Who would only be staying for one night. It would be a long night of waiting for Harry, he’d have to return early in the morning to catch them. Once again he bemoaned not having his Cloak. He’d have to rely on his own skills in Disillusionment charms to keep himself hidden. 

  
Maybe it was childish but this was the most fun he had had in ages, he felt like a first year again. Sneaking out at night with only detention as his consequences.    
  
This was going to be fun!


	5. I Know You

Harry waited at the Leaky Cauldron for five AM to roll around when he could leave. He couldn’t risk Tom seeing him again, he was too recognizable to wander around doing things, and at this time the only things that would be open would be in Knockturn Alley and Harry hadn’t wanted to venture down there ever again, even though he would have to eventually to destroy the stupid cabinet that Malfoy had used sixth year. Both of those things had to go.    
  
He really should keep a list of everything he had to do. Maybe he would buy one of those pretty journals that were always in Muggle bookshops and write everything down in there, that way when he was long dead and didn’t care who went nosing about in his business they could have all the answers they wanted without badgering him. Maybe he could take up gardening and leave them a message in his flowerbeds just to piss them off further. Make them decode the language of flowers for a decade or two.    
  
Thinking of new and interesting ways to infuriate the likes of Rita Skeeter and her foul ilk killed a few hours, They’d have a hard time writing his tell all after he died that's for damn sure. 

When the time to leave finally rolled around he slipped a beanie on over his scar and let the fringe of his hair fall over his eyes, the hat keeping it there. There were some benefits to growing it out, at least. Despite his newfound appreciation he at least had no plans to make a repeat of his fourth year hair choices, those were unfortunate. Harry managed to check out unnoticed by Tom again this time. Maybe he should dye his hair or something, that might help, there were charms for that too. Too bad none of them would work on his scar, not even Muggle makeup kept the thing hidden, as soon as he thought of the idea the first time he was a kid he tried it and the makeup just rolled off the scar like rain on a windshield.    
  
Stupid fucking scar. Maybe he’d just get fed up and carve it off his head one day before he jumped off a bridge or threw a toaster in a bathtub and dove in after it. Not like he had any plans worthwhile after Voldemort was dead, and he didn’t want to be an Auror anymore. He wouldn’t have any of his friends this time around either...they deserved to live full lives without the chaos he would bring into it. And without them, life just seemed a bit hollow. Knowing it would remain so sucked the luster out of it. Walking around life, looking at people and seeing out they had almost died, how they could still die haunting him. Harry knew he couldn’t live like that. A life of loneliness, or a life watching the ghosts of a possible future chase after those he kept safe? Constantly wondering if any of it was real or not. Maybe snapping one day and ending up sharing a room with Neville’s parents? No. Harry knew he would eventually go mad being near the people he loved, and yet how could he stay away?    
  


Walking up the steps to Grimmauld Place he had nearly forgotten the excitement of wondering who Kreacher was hoarding in the house. Someone who was Sirius sanctioned. What reminded him was the hideous ruckus coming from behind the door, Walburga screaming and shit breaking as she did. Harry threw open the door, wand drawn, ready to face whatever was on the other side, though nothing could have actually prepared him for what he did see yelling at the portrait of Sirius’s mum.

“GOOD GOD SHUT UP YOU WRETCHED HAG!!”    
  
Remus, drunk as fuck, and obviously half formed, the full moon was last night, he was always gone for the next day too. Harry had always thought because the change was tiring, but now this must be why. The man was huge, naked, and still had a snout and claws, which stunningly didn’t shred the painting when the curtains,  _ thank god for them _ where roughly pulled over the painting.    
  
Harry finally took a breath when she was shut up. Then realized he was in a whole other pile of shit when Remus’s snout twitched and he jerked violently at Harry, on reflex. He stood there frozen as shock ran over the wolf, who spread his long, emaciated fingers, and cowered, making himself as small as possible. In his eyes Harry saw fear, and heartbreak, of course Mooney would recognize his scent, he knew Harry since he was a baby, even if he had vanished shortly after. The poor man saw this as Harry’s first encounter that he would remember. Harry took a breath and held up his hands too, he hadn’t expected to make this choice, or even really see him this time around, but, needs must, after all.    
  
“Remus? It's Harry, I know you know me, it’s ok.” Harry took a slow step forward. “I’m not afraid, I know you won’t hurt me,” Another step. “I know you’re terrified right now, and, yeah, confused, I’m a ten year old who’s not supposed to know you who just broke into your mate’s house and all.” Remus let the slightest amount of tension bleed out of him with the gasping ghost of a laugh. Another step closer for Harry, he could almost touch him. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing here and everything.” With the last step Harry put a hand on the wiry upper arm of his father figure. “But please Remus, first, go put on some pants, mate.”    
  
Maybe Harry shouldn’t have laughed as he watched the subject of many people's greatest fears scramble and knock shit over to put on undergarments, but honestly, he hadn’t laughed for what felt like his entire life. At least he didn’t follow him asking about a tail like Sirius probably would have in the same situation. Tempted as he was. Anyways, he wasn’t going to tell the man about time travelling back or whatever the fuck he did so he decided to take a risk. A bloody big one at that. But an important one, since everything had just gone tits up, and Remus was probably about to go running to Dumbledore.    
  
He needed to get Sirius if Remus was here anyways, the only question was how was he going to explain himself.  _ Remus, good to see you alive, big change there. I time travelled, found out your idol is a bit of an arse who framed your best mate. No big deal, wanna free your friend and never see each other again?  _ That would go over swimmingly. Just grand. Why not have that put in a press release?    
  
Then what to tell Sirius? He’d want to get even for sure, and no way would he be willing to play the long game. Too Slytherin, no he’d want to go and blow up right in Dumbledore’s face, make sure he knew why he was getting what he was getting. Rub it in. If he was one thing it was a loose cannon. God this was all going to shite.    
  
Could nothing just be easy for once? Just in case Remus tried writing to Dumbledore Harry ordered Kreacher to stop all mail leaving the place until further notice. And to bring tea for him and Remus. Maybe a few raw meat cubes or something. 

He sat watching his teacup as Remus walked out, still with long fingers and a snout, but missing the wiry fur and yellow eyes the moon was also kind enough to bring. Thankfully with a robe wrapped around himself so Harry didn’t have to learn what a werewolves balls looked like, it would be trouble enough forgetting that to begin with. He watched Remus as his long fingers made himself a cup, very slowly, still determined to show he was not a threat even though Harry had shown he did not consider him as such. Either way it was weird for them both, and Harry still had to explain how he knew Remus to begin with.    
  
“I’ve put a bit of pepper up potion in your tea, should sober you up a bit.” Harry said, deciding to be the first one to break the ice. Remus nodded and took a small sip, then a much larger one before refilling his cup.    
  


“Where did you get this?”    
  
“I made it.”    
  
“You...aren’t meant to learn until your fourth year...you, how do you?”    
  
“I know a lot of things I guess I really shouldn’t…”  _ Shit shit shit shit!  _ “I...have dreams.”  _ You fucking moron, maybe you didn’t die because Death didn’t want you.  _ “I had a dream about this place, and you and Sirius. And I read about that potion in one of the books here.” There had to be at least one recipe for Pepper up in the Black Library, it couldn’t all just be torture. They’d get tired eventually otherwise.    
  
“So you’re a Seer then?”    
  
_ Fuck me.  _ “I guess so. I don’t really see visions or do prophecies or anything. I just know stuff and have dreams sometimes.” Any moment now Remus was going to call Harry on his bullshit and he’d be spending the rest of his time here in the Janus Thickey ward. Or back at the Dursleys, but at least he had a wand that couldn’t be traced there. Maybe he would Obliviate them before taking off again.    
  
“So you, know me, and obviously Sirius, and what he did. To you, and your parents, why come here?”    
  
“For one, I didn’t have a choice, Aunt Petunia hates magic and she left me out here.” Not exactly a lie, she had left him plenty of places, plenty of times, but never London. “And for another, Sirius is innocent, which the world would know if he had ever been given a fair trial. Or any trial for that matter. Wormtail betrayed my parents, and he’s alive now, living in his rat form. If you need any more proof other than my knowing that he’s an animagus as well as Sirius and my father then I’ll provide as much as I can. I’m a Seer, not a genie, after all.”    
  
Harry took a sip of his tea and let the news sink in. The information about Wormtail should keep him distracted from Harry being sent to the care of Petunia, and Harry’s so called Seer abilities. Maybe every once in a while he’d act like Luna to keep him off the scent while he dropped his random hints of knowledge. More things to do and keep aware of, how wonderful.    
  
“So you...came here, to find him? Or find a way to get Sirius to take care of you, after your aunt abandoned you?” Remus asked, heartbreak in his voice. “I...Harry, I’m so sorry, I, should have been there for you.” He said, hanging his head in shame.    
  
“You’re here now, and I would really like your help with this, Remus. I know you have issues with your Lycanthropy, and you never want to hurt anyone, and you’re always worried you will. I can get you Wolfsbane potion, and I will. But I need you to stay with me.” Harry held his teacup tight in his hands, curling in on himself, trying to be as small as possible. It killed him to manipulate Remus like this but it was what he had to do. He pushed as much of the frightened orphan into his tone as he could, while he forced out a single  _ please _ .    
  
The long arms that encircled him were gentle and soft, almost not even there. The coarse hair that covered them tickled Harry’s cheek as he let himself learn into the touch and push himself closer to Remus, just as he had with his stuffie. Choosing to let himself be small, for just a little while, never letting these moments be taken for granted. The lack of sleep he’d suffered hit him like a train as he set his head on the long, thin arms of the werewolf, the hair wasn’t even all that uncomfortable. Before either of them knew it Harry was half asleep and ready to head the rest of the way there, Remus picked him up and carried him to one of the rooms in the house that were still somewhat usable.

Harry didn’t bother to wonder which one as he was laid down on a bed, holding tightly to the fur underneath him as he closed his eyes, letting his body finally relax into the rest it so desperately needed. 


	6. An Adjustment

Harry sent off his order for a monthly supply of Wolfsbane potion to Professor Snape, and amended his order to Kreacher to take any and all mail Remus sent out, so he could review it first. He sat in Sirius’s old room with his tea, and his head in his hands. At least he could play that he didn’t know how to demand a trial for anyone, let alone Sirius Black of all people. It was a cruel and rotten thing to do to his godfather, but the man had put too much faith in Dumbledore, always had. Remus too.    
  
As if to prove his point, a letter to Dumbledore appeared in front of him, sent by Remus, no doubt tattling everything to the old man. Harry took it and hid it away to read later, and then burn. It wasn’t as if Dumbledore replied to most of what anyone ever wrote anyways. The amount of mail he got there really was absolutely no way, and if he did it with a Time Turner then it would have truly been a miracle to hide it.    
  
He simply couldn’t let Dumbledore get involved until the very last possible moment. He would have to be clever about this, sneaky too…   
  
_ “You would have done well, in Slytherin…”  _ The Sorting Hat echoes in his mind.    
  
_ Shut up, Hat!  _ Harry thinks back.    
  
Realizing he is mentally shouting at his own memories Harry decided to go back to sleep for a few more hours. Remus wouldn’t be up and around for a while and Kreacher has everything else handled.    
  
\----------   
  
The weeks passed without many events. There was still Remus living with him and Kreacher. Harry had to hide much of his research, at least the stuff that would put others in harm's way should Remus mouth off once Harry went to school. He kept that in his room, where Kreacher kept Remus out of when Harry wasn’t there. More of his time was spent combing through dry legal books than searching for Nagini.    
  
Harry had thought nothing could get more tedious than Binns’s class. But damn was he wrong. This was ridiculous. Wizarding Law was ridiculous. Any bastard could get off on any number of technicalities and lies if they had enough money and dragged out the court proceedings long enough. No wonder Malfoy got to be Voldemort’s lieutenant and still have a life afterwards with all the power he could ever want. All he needed was enough time to find one of them and exploit it before the court. By the time he was up after stalling the Wizengamot he claimed Imperious a mind healer couldn’t find proof of its influence.    
  
Nor could they find evidence it hadn’t been used.    
  
Harry could get Sirius out on a dozen or so technicalities, but unless it was proved without a shadow of a doubt that he was innocent there were a baker's dozen other technicalities that could land him back in. He put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, burning from strain, how Hermione did this without going blind, let alone for fun was one of the mysteries of the world that would go forever unsolved. Harry took a sip of his tea only to find it was cold, but that the room had gotten significantly darker than when he had first sat down. Kreacher must have lit the lamps so he could keep reading.    
  
Something else he noticed was Remus standing in the doorway awkwardly, clearly with something to say.    
  
“Harry, burning the midnight oil, are we?” He said with a smile as he walked inside and sat down, taking a look over the many parchments and books littering the table he worked at. “It is quite late, you know, young man.”    
  
Was the man really trying to  _ send Harry to bed _ ?    
  
“Yes, I guess it is.” Harry said with a smile before calling Kreacher to bring him more tea. “I’ve found numerous technicalities that could get Sirius out of prison, but there seems to always be another loophole, and then another after that.” He gratefully took the cool damp cloth that came with the tea and put it over his eyes, easing the burning.    
  
“You know, Harry, I’ve been here for a few weeks now and I don’t think you’ve left this flat even once. You’ve been pouring over these documents that grown wizards, who have spent their lives devoted to wizarding law have trouble understanding…maybe you should give this a bit of a rest.”    
  
For a moment Harry considered that Remus was right. But then again that would mean that no one else would be looking for a way to free Sirius. Like he himself hadn’t been the entire time he had been tracking Nagini.    
  
“Why bother with that? It’s not like anyone else is trying to free Sirius.” Harry snapped. Maybe that was a bit too cruel. But then again so was that comment about how he was repaying his parents poorly back in third year. Still he regretted it the moment it left his tongue. “Sorry. I know you just learned he was innocent. I shouldn’t be mad at you for that.”    
  
Remus nodded his acceptance, though Harry couldn’t see it around his cold cloth. He took a seat beside Harry, letting the young boy lean against him while he took his tea. He cleared his throat before he finally decided to ask the questions he had been dancing around during his stay.    
  
“Harry...these dreams you have...how long have you..?” He started awkwardly.    
  
“How long have I had them? How long have I known about Sirius? You? The rest of it all?” Harry prompted. The more he got Remus to give over the less likely Harry was to fuck himself over. Even if it was simply an attempt on the werewolves part to keep him from running himself inside out for the moment.    
  
“Well, for now, Sirius and I.” Remus said with a smile, letting himself relax a bit now that Harry seemed unlikely to snap at him again.    
  
“I’ve had dreams about Sirius and his motorbike for as long as I can remember.”  _ Almost the truth.  _ “It was only a few months ago that I had the dream about him and The Rat switching positions as a Secret Keeper. You were always at his side. Sirius’s.” Harry considered removing the cloth as he felt his throat close up. He could ask now. He knew he would receive an answer. Why had it taken so long? Why had Remus never written? Never looked in on him? Never watched him from a distance?    
  
Harry felt his eyes prickling once more as they had spent much time doing as he thought of his godson Teddy. He was making the world a safer place for him...even if he may never exist in it. How Remus could have simply left him all alone. Without even a letter all those years.    
  
He could ask now.    
  
But what would be the answer?    
  
What reason could Remus possibly give that would make it alright? It wasn’t as if werewolves couldn’t write letters to kids. Wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to work owl or muggle post. Remus was at his parents wedding, he knew Petunia and Vernon.    
  
“Harry, I-”   
  
“I’m going to bed.” He pulled himself away from the warmth of the man sitting beside him, only removing the cloth when he was out of sight of Remus. “Goodnight, Remus.” Maybe it was harsh. But with all the time between pouring over documents and making plans, the past pains of this life and the old circled him like vultures. Harry loved Remus, he truly did. But the knowledge that he would absolutely survive this time around...the knowledge that he would stop the war before it started brought forth the bad blood he hadn’t dealt with.   
  


“Goodnight, cub.” Came the reply, clearing keeping a stiff upper lip about himself.    
  
_ This is stupid!  _ Harry screamed at himself, visions of Remus, hand in hand with Tonks...unmoving and cold. Died a warrior’s death, sure. Left so much unsaid. Facing death had been far less nerve racking. At least then he had been numb with shock, groomed for it his entire life. This was far more frightening, without a doubt. The last argument he had had with Remus added to the vultures, come to think of it they had had it in the very room he had just left.    
  
Harry grit his teeth and pushed the feelings down where they belonged, in a small pit at the bottom of his stomach, where he would eventually put food on it until it went away for a little while. Kreacher really did make wonderful food, and maybe if he ate well this time around he wouldn’t be so damn short. He finally stopped and turned around.    
  
“Remus?” He asked, the man in question looked up.    
  
“Would you take me to Diagon Alley tomorrow? The Ministry part of it? So we can file the request for a proper trial? And maybe a visit to Azkaban?” He asked, knowing that Remus would see that he would do it with or without him.    
  
“Of course, Harry, I would love to...I’m not certain if visitors to Azkaban are allowed but...no harm in asking I suppose.” He said with a smile that left Harry wondering how he was ever a Marauder. Harry smiled back and thanked him before turning back upstairs to go to bed, feelings a bit better about his relationship with Remus. 


End file.
